


Trust dreams, trust your heart and trust your story

by unluckyloki



Series: Witch AU [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Also me -, Damian is asexual, I'm like hinting that in my AU Damian is asexual, M/M, also the Aunties, and they shall appear, batfamily feels have arived, multiple pov change in chapter 2, ppls asked for them, read the main story first, this is an extra for an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-07-23 07:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20004535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckyloki/pseuds/unluckyloki
Summary: After all this time, Tim gets to go to Wayne Manor. Some very special visitors follow.





	1. I'll be good, I'll be good, for all of the times I never could

**Author's Note:**

> important! - if you haven't read the main story, this one will be confusing. 
> 
> this is going to have a few chapters, but basically it all takes place in the same day. expect 3 to 4 chapters, all of them pretty short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Tim have a talk  
> (takes place exactly after the end of 'You're allowed to have him')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Tim - Damian relationship is a thing that irks me, because on one hand I want them to be okay with each other, but on the other hand I understand that too much damage had been done and a lot of apologies are due. However, it's something that will take a lot of effort and no writer in canon has even tried to do that. So, here I am, doing something about it in my AU, because I want to.  
> Also, do not expect them to be all sweet and brotherly at once, it is not possible and most likely will not ever happen, Damian is just not like that

Damian Al Ghul Wayne is not a child.

He is to be 15 soon, and he is an heir to the Al Ghul and Batman legacies. Multiple people had mentioned how mature for his age he has always been.

That’s why he absolutely does not go all red because of what he sees in the living room at Drake’s apartment. He also emits a disgruntled and very dignified grunt and _not_ a scream.

When Drake and the clone spring to wakefulness, Damian walks away to the kitchen gracefully. It’s not only because Drake had asked him to, but also because he would rather not be forced to look at them being absolutely shameless.

Over fifteen minutes pass before they are finished with their goodbyes and Drake enters the kitchen. He is blessedly not as undressed as he was before and is wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt. The Superboy t-shirt is hopefully gone, together with it’s owner. When Drake gets closer to the kitchen island Damian is sitting at, he can see that there’s roses and a word ‘spellcaster’ written on it. Damian scoffs.

Drake follows his gaze and chuckles.

“Before criticizing my fashion choices, how about you tell me what you are going to drink, tea or coffee?”

“Why do we have to drink anything _here_? Pennyworth can have it ready when we arrive at the Manor. You have been here long enough, let’s go!”

Damian is halfway to the door when he notices that Drake is not following him. So he turns and scoffs.

“Damian,” Drake says in an irritatingly calm voice. “I need to drink something _here_ if you don’t mind, okay?”

“I mind,” Damian says and puts his foot down with maybe too much force that it might be seen as stomping. Which it is not, of course. “You told Father you wanted to be alone! _Th_ _at_ was _not_ alone!”

Drake sighs. There’s a small smile on his lips.

“Damian, I’m really sorry for traumatizing you like that, but if you could just give me a minu-”

“No! You’ve stayed away from home long enough! Father, Richard, everyone’s been worried about you, everyone just wants you back! And you would not listen to me because you want to drink your awful coffee _here_ and not in the Manor!”

Damian might have yelled, but no one should ever blame him, because Drake was being _unreasonable_!

Meanwhile Drake’s face has lost all of it’s mirth and instead he is looking at Damian with a very solemn expression.

“I need to drink my antidepressants,” Drake explains in a calm, almost colorless voice. “Which are magical and I need to prepare them myself. So if you could just please take a sit and give me a minute.”

Drake needing antidepressants stuns Damian into silence. He nods sharply and goes to sit in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Drake says pointedly and goes to the stove.

He throws some herbs into a pot with water and stirs, while Damian thinks.

He’s been avoiding Drake for a reason he couldn’t exactly voice to anyone, either it be Richard or Father (who’d even _asked_ once).

The reason is that Damian was utterly and totally _ashamed_.

Of not noticing, of dismissing the clue that the little girl gave him. If Damian had just _listened_ , checked the clue and written it all down, as the procedure demanded, it all could have been different. They could have had Drake back with Father and Richard and all of the others much faster.

Drake needn’t have died.

The scene that Damian had witnessed in the hut that day had carved itself into his nightmares.

He had known that Todd had died once, had even seen the files on it in the early days of his career, when he did not care for the man at all (it’s not like he would admit to caring _now_ , anyway not out loud). He also wasn’t present when Father had allegedly died – also it left no body, only the cowl, which was terrifying in it’s own right, but not as nightmare-inducing. He was not there when they buried Richard, even though it all ended up being a scheme in the end (he’d almost forgiven him. He’d forgive anything, if it meant Richard was back with him)

So Damian had found himself absolutely unprepared for Drake’s lifeless and pale body on a pedestal, covered in flowers. He was even more unprepared for what happened after that wile creature had put Drake’s soul back into his body, when he woke up gasping for air and not being able to breath properly, with dark blood dripping down his chin, and how Todd cradled him in his arms gently and how Father’s voice broke...

He had never wanted Drake to suffer, not like that, _especially_ not like that.

Okay, maybe Damian had attempted fratricide before, but it was a long time ago and did not really count, right? (he didn’t really believe it didn’t)

Damian is a different person now. Is trying to be different.

And the years that had passed without Drake in the house have completely disillusioned him of his previous, more dark and hidden thoughts – that if Drake wasn’t there, the family would accept him better and sooner.

Nothing has changed in that aspect.

Damian is old enough to let go off the petty desires to blame it all on Drake.

Damian is not a child and knows when an apology is due.

“Drake?” he starts, and somehow it sounds more like a question. “I-”

No, Damian Wayne does not stutter. Even though Drake doesn’t seem to pay much attention to him, not even turning to face him.

Damian squares his shoulders. He will face this as a man.

“I need to apologize to you. I have not taken the clue from that civilian child seriously and that have been wrong. If I have done it, you would have been brought back earlier, but instead I just-”

“Damian, it’s okay,” Drake tries to interject, but Damian is not finished.

“-ignored it against all procedures and I should have checked it and entered into the database and maybe then someone would have noticed that something was amiss in the composition of our troops and-”

“Damian!”

“-and you shouldn’t have _died_ for my mistake, I should have known something was-”

“Dami, okay, stop!” Drake says in a commanding tone.

He’s managed to sneak up on Damian somehow and ended up in front of him.

Despite himself, Damian’s jaws click shut.

“I need you to breath. It’s all right," Drake's voice is calm when he says it. Calm and sure. "It's okay, you couldn't have known, it's not your fault.”

Damian feels strange dryness in his throat.

“I don’t want you dead,” he whispers to Drake.

“Oh,” Drake blinks owlishly. “That's, like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Something catches in Damian’s throat, some sound that is definitely _not_ a whimper.

“Do you hate me?” he asks, trying his best not to let it sound hesitant.

“What? I don’t. Of course I don’t. Why would you think-”

“You had a thing to represent each of the others, but not _me_.”

That’s something that has been bothering Damian for quiet a while. In that shack, Drake had a book from Todd’s collection, Richard’s t-shirt, Cain’s mug… But nothing from him.

It takes Drake a moment to realize what Damian’s talking about.

“First of all, in my defense I should say that I wasn’t the one who packed the bag, Death did. And I obviously didn’t have a say in what was put there.”

“Death? Packed you a bag?” Damian has to ask, bewildered.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if someone told me,” Drake snorts. “But, I. Okay, let’s be honest here, we haven’t had the best relationship before, right?”

Damian winces. They may have been a bit better to each other as the time progressed, but Drake still did not live at the Manor because of him. (it was welcome at first, of course. I was intentional, making Drake leave. Damian had gloated back them. He doesn’t feel like that now, he wants Drake back there and he wants him to always be within sight)

“I’m sorry,” Damian says. “I have wronged you, before. I do not intend to do that anymore, ever.”

“I didn’t mean-” Drake stops and sighs a long sigh, “Our relationship was kinda destined to be a disaster from the beginning, with your upbringing and my place in the family at that moment. But, after it kinda stabilized, it didn’t change much. We both just left it where it was. So it’s not only on you. Maybe, I haven’t been trying, too.”

“Then I propose we try,” Damian nods and, after a hesitant pause adds, “Timothy.”

“Don’t call me that," Drake says, but then looks at Damian and explains it, fast. "I haven’t earned it. Yet. Maybe I could. With a cat.”

As if commanded by magic, Cookie the cat (Damian still thinks that the name’s stupid) brushes past Damian’s legs. The cat’s fur looks fluffy and shiny, her canines white and strong when she yawns. She looks healthy – nothing like back then, in the woods.

“How come I haven’t noticed her before? And how come she’s appeared when you said that? Have you been mind-controlling her?”

The magic topic is still much a taboo in the family, it has not been discussed, so no one knows what Drake’s powers are like. Damian squints at him in suspicion.

Drake has the gull to laugh while setting a cup of green tea in front of him.

“Damian, you have a cat. Do you think someone can mind-control them?”

Damian leans down slowly, putting his hand out to let Cookie smell it.

“They’re too stubborn for that,” Damian confirms, when the cat stares at him with her yellow eyes and then blinks slowly.

The cat allows Damian to pet her on the head and moves on to Drake.

There’s a cup with something yellow on the counter, and Cookie rubs her head on it’s side. Drake pets her and takes the cup in his hands.

Silence settles between them, and it’s a comfortable one. Damian sips his tea. Drake drinks his – presumably – magical antidepressants.

“You owe me more than one cup of a mediocre Oolong for forcing me to see you and the clone in such a compromising position,” Damian finally says, scrunching his nose in distaste.

“First of all, he has a name,” Drake says, but then snorts. “Second – we were _just_ _sleeping_. You didn’t see anything, no need to be so over-dramatic about it.”

“You were practically in the nude and all over each other! I can understand what that means, I’m not a child!”

Despite saying that, Damian can feel his ears burn. He purposely does not look at Drake.

“Well, that’ll teach you not to break into my place without knocking first,” Drake snickers.

Damian looks pointedly away and crosses his arms.

“But, um, seriously, Dami? He’s my boyfriend and there’s absolutely no guarantee you won’t stumble into us being ‘all over each other’ any other time, so just make sure to knock, okay?”

“I don’t understand it,” Damian mutters.

“You don’t understand knocking? Yeah, I get it, in the family like ours-”

“No,” Damian interrupts, even though his ears are burning, _bad_ , “I don’t understand the appeal you all see in it.”

Drake either decides to play dumb or is genuinely confused.

“In what?”

It takes Damian a serious force of will to actually pronounce it.

“Physical intimacy,” he says through gritted teeth.

Drake is looking at him, he can feel. He’s going to judge him, just like his classmates did, when he said he honestly saw no appeal in any of the female cheerleaders on their football field (as a matter of fact, he wasn’t interested in the male ones as well). The pause is so long Damian actually turns to look at Drake.

His face is not what Damian had expected. It’s pensive and not a bit judgmental.

“Dami,” Drake says slowly. “Do you know what ‘asexual’ means?”

Damian scoffs. Is this a test?

“Of course – it is reproduction not involving the fusion of gametes.”

Drake shakes his head and a strand of his hair fall out of his ponytail. He really _does_ need a haircut.

“No, not in biology, in sexuality.”

“No?”

“It’s when a person just isn’t interested in sex. They don’t feel sexual attraction, or feel it so seldom it’s like they don’t feel it at all. So that’s totally okay, that just happens. I know a few resources that can help you research it better, but I’m not an expert on this, because I’m not asexual, so-”

That’s really too much information Damian had never thought about, so he just needs to change the topic.

“Yeah, you are obviously not asexual,” Damian says and wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips.

Thankfully, it works.

“Damian, stop that!”

Damian stops, but stays pensive for another long moment.

“What will you give me,” Damian asks slowly, as if testing, “not to tell Richard.”

“Pff you think he’d disapprove?”

“No, but. He’d ask. And nag. And want you to give him _details_ and share your _feelings_.”

Their gazes meet. They both shiver.

“Okay, good point,” Drake says, then grins. “You’re really stepping up that little brother game, aren’t you?”

And then, he dares to ruffle Damian’s hair.

“You heathen!” Damian splutters and surges at him.

Drake laughs and evades. They exchange a few more light kicks and blocks before it stops. It takes them all the way to the corridor i front of the entrance to the apartment.

By the end of it, Drake is laughing and Damian is grinning.

“We should totally spar in the cave,” Drake suggests. “It’s been a while, I could use it.”

Then, Drake has to stand on his tip-toes to reach a scarf on the top shelf of his closet. Damian snorts.

“You could have always,” he adds helpfully. “But it seems like nothing will aid you with your height.”

“I'm okay with my height,” Drake says. “Like, I wished I was taller when I was younger, but I like it as it is now. It’s a comfortable and compact height.”

“And also your _compact_ build allows you to fall into the clone's arms more easily?” Damian suggests innocently.

“Damian, oh my gods,” Drake gasps and Damian can see that his cheeks are flushed a bit. “Where did you get that sense of humor, put it back!”

Damian laughs, this time full and loud. When he looks at Drake, there’s a small, soft smile on his brother’s lips.

“Okay, you little brat, I don’t want to know which car you illegally drove here and I don’t care, it’s gonna be a problem for Bruce. We’re taking my bike, get ready for your hair getting even more messed up.”

Drake throws him a helmet and how come Damian hadn’t noticed it, but it’s too late and only saved by the instincts engrafted in his bones Damian catches it.

Drake, the fiend, uses the moment Damian’s hands are occupied to tousle his hair some more.

Then Drake, in an absolute show of cowardice, laughs and sprints to the door, closing it after himself with a loud bang.

Damian screams indignantly and dashes after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim's sweatshirt inspired by [ this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/107ea38abfcefd1d5ffd40ac5a9da774/tumblr_nzovwac1WG1sldp2xo1_500.jpg)


	2. when the rest of the world sees a wall, we see a window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witchy aunts visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan-art with [Tim and Cookie](https://heatherica45.tumblr.com/post/188391810032/recently-ive-been-reading-a-lot-of-tim-drake) and also [this one](https://heatherica45.tumblr.com/post/188616135572/sketches-unluckyloki) gave me the inspiration to finally finish this story, so go give the artist some well-deserved love!  
> also I need to tell you that I'm very stupid and didn't notice the notifications on tumblr about the art, so if you've ever tagged me in something and I didn't answer, it's exactly because I didn't notice. Do feel free to yell at me if that happens 😅
> 
> wow I've actually managed to finish this in October, and, moreover, on Halloween!  
> Happy Samhain to everyone who celebrates!

Alfred was maybe secretly waiting for the Queen of England to visit - at least that's what it looked like to Jason, because the old butler had cooked and baked and steamed and grilled for the whole day and the best part of the morning. There was a whole feast at the ready, the best cutlery taken out, the whole house being cleaned, not without all of the family's help.

Jason grumbled and groaned and tried to push some of his work on Dick, but still stayed.

Because, maybe, he understands.

After all, _finally_ , Timmy is coming home.

When they were almost done, the demon baby, who ran off first thing in the morning, probably because he didn't want to clean, called. He was on his way to the Manor, with Tim in tow.  
It was then that Alfred noticed that he did not have any marshmallows, Tim's favorites, and all of them were promptly sent out to the shopping mall to get them. So, Damian was instructed to make Tim turn around and join the others at the mall.

This is how, less than an hour later, they all meet up at the Gotham Mall's entrance. Tim and Damian arrive on Tim's bike, and the demon kid grumbles, but drags Tim after him by the lapel of his shirt. It looks more like he doesn't want to let go than that he's angry, but Jason's not gonna tell him.

Everyone gets in line to hug Tim, but Jason lags behind, not wanting to overwhelm the kid.

He knows that it's not easy to come back to life, and, no matter the kid's tasteless jokes, he's not as okay as he pretends to be. Jason knows how lost one can feel, how out of place.

It only proves true when everyone's done pestering Tim with their attention, and the group agrees to go to different parts of the mall, each pursuing their own goal. Jason takes Duke, as the only other sane person around, with him to the supermarket to actually get the groceries Alfred sent them to buy. 

When the two of them return, only Damian and Tim are at the meeting point - with the demon kid being in line for vegan gelato, and Tim wandering aimlessly through the food court.  
Tim's eyes are empty, his mind obviously far away, and body going through the motions out of habit. 

Jason knows this, too, and he makes a move to go to Tim to talk, but then his and almost everyone's attention is captured by a man screaming at one of the vendors. The man is red in the face from screaming in anger, and he's yelling something about a discount and how dare the vendor not give it to him for buying two gyros. Security is called to escort him out soon, and the guy does do, yelling some more about 'good-for-nothing emigrants steeling jobs'.

Tim's eyes follow the screaming man.

There's more in them than has been for the last hour or so.

The asshole guy passes a huge advertising sign of some burger joint's mascot, shaped like a burger with eyes and legs.

Tim turns his head swiftly.

The sign falls down, crushing the asshole under it's weight.

People scream. Some of them rush towards the accident. Medics are being called. In the chaos, Jason loses Tim for a moment.

When he finds him again, Tim's back is turned to the crowd that's gathered where the paramedics are taking the heavily injured man to the hospital. Tim is talking to the vendor that's been screamed at.

Jason never thought that his ability to read lips in Greek would be useful outside of the case he had learned it for, but here he is - reading the conversation Tim has with the Greek vendor.

They laugh. Tim makes a joke. They share recipe for homemade tzatziki. The vendor asks Tim where he is from, and Tim says 'Naxos'.

That's when Damian crashes into Tim, demanding to know why he's still here, why hasn't he gone to the others yet. Tim apologizes to the vendor, tips him generously and follows Damian, who resumes his newfound habit to tug Tim after himself by the tip of his sweater.

When they pass the ambulance into which that asshole is being loaded, Tim looks at it and turns away, so Jason can't _really_ see his expression anymore.

They each get to their vehicles, and Jason settles in the driver's sit, a heavy feeling in his stomach.

He's just gotta convince himself he imagined Tim's eyes flaring up brightly before the sign fall, and the smile playing on his lips when he passed the ambulance.

***

Tim smiles.

There's still some gyrosz, neatly packed in a bag by Dimitris, a namesake of his school's headmaster. There's his family, waiting for him at the Manor, welcoming him in their loud, overwhelming happiness. 

There's a memory of Kon's hands on him, making him hide his growing grin and blush.

There's no more coldness and pain when he thinks of Gotham - he can actually come back.

He remembers when no one saw him, when no one thought he’s important. It was like he’s become a child again.

He remembers the disbelief, the betrayal he felt when Dick wouldn't even talk to him, taking him for some kind of a fan, brushing him of like he never met him.

He remembers sitting in the middle of his room that he trashed and screaming.

 _I don’t know what to do with you_ , Death said. _You’re not dead but you’re not alive,_ she said.

Being alone for so long humbled him to the unbelievable level, but also let him build himself up from the bottom.

Tim's not the same person who left Gotham two years ago, and he wouldn't want to be.

He's grown and changed and found himself.

And it's not like the happy ending in the fairy tales he used to read to himself when he was a child.

But, maybe, he could make it better.

He could make it _his_.

***

Tim was back home, his other kids accounted for, too, and the only thing that bothered Bruce was that Tim still didn't tell them who cast that first spell on him.

He just kind of shrugged and said it's been dealt with, but that didn't calm Bruce.

No, Batman needed to know who made his child suffer like that and make them suffer in return.

He would continue looking into it, of course, without Tim knowing. At the moment, nothing could be done about it, so Bruce concentrated on the conversation going on at the dinner table instead.

"Can you dance sertaki?" Dick is asking, not having stopped pestering his younger brother for one bit.

Tim laughs into his Greek salad.

"Yes, but only when drunk," he answers slyly.

Dick yelps indignantly, clutching at his heart.

"What??" he screams, and it's obvious that he's actually disturbed. "Timmy, you're 17!"

Tim gives him a long look.

"Dick," he says slowly, "I'm 20 this year."

"Your birthday is more than half a year away, Drake," Damian chimes in suddenly.

Everyone turns to Damian with different degrees of disbelief. The boy huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, his cheeks burning with blush.

"I had to familiarize myself with the file about Drake to make sure not more of my memory had been taken from me," Damian offers an excuse.

It really has been two years, hasn't it? Bruce's heart hurts at how much he's missed, how much has happened and he wasn't there, wasn't able to help, comfort, share the moment.

His third son, always so independent, self-reliant, had to go through so much, all alone.

Tim laughs, freely and happily, and the cold melts away from Bruce's heart.

"We're probably going to have to alter your uniform," Bruce says with a smile. "You've grown."

"Or maybe make a new one?" Duke suggests.

"Oooooooh, yes, totally, we should make the witch-robin aesthetics count!" Stephanie says and laughs.

There's a very concentrated way in which Cass is watching Tim, and Bruce looks back at his third son to see something change in his eyes.

"Uniform?" Tim asks carefully.

"Yeah, your Red Robin uniform?" Dick says carefully, and from his voice Bruce can tell he notices something, too. "Or would you wanna call yourself something else, little bird?"

Tim doesn't answer, and everyone at the table quiets, an uneasy atmosphere settling over.

"Tim," Bruce calls. "You _will_ continue working in costume, will you not?"

Tim looks up at him sharply, locking their gazes.

“What is it, Bruce?" Tim asks, and his voice sounds strange, foreign. “I can only be a part of the family if I am useful to your war?”

Tim cocks his head to the side, and it looks robotic, like a mechanical bird Bruce used to have when he was a child. Tim’s eyes seem darker and deeper and Bruce can’t look away – it feels like they’re looking into his soul, judging every word.

"No," he says, not recognizing his son’s eyes but being unable to look away. "You will always be a part of the family, no matter what you choose."

Tim blinks. His face softens in an instant.

"Okay, then," he says and smiles softly.

There's a long pause after that, with everyone gathering themselves.

Then, Tim adds to his previous statement, soft, disbelieving laughter in his words.

"It's not like I could actively take part in the Bat's operations while living on Naxos, right?"

It takes them a moment to understand what he means, and when they do, it causes a storm.

Alfred is the one who manages to get trough it and coherently ask:

"What do you mean, Master Tim? Would you not come back to live in Gotham?"

Tim scoffs at them and the family quiets, holding their breathes to hear what he has to say.

"It's nice to visit, and I will be doing that a lot now that you remember me, but I can't live here. I have a house, my jobs, and my people there. What's gonna happen to my garden, who's gonna have lessons with my kids? I just can't neglect such a responsibility."

"Can't someone else do it for you?" Dick asks desperately. "Can't we find someone?"

Tim blinks at him, the same way that Cookie the cat did when Bruce had booped her on the nose once - surprised by the notion itself.

"I don't _want_ anyone else to do it for me," Tim says slowly, like it's something that needs to be explained to a small child. "I like it there. I wouldn't change being the Naxos witch for anything."

The atmosphere in the room sours considerably, no more being light and happy. Tim scrambles for something to say:

"I though it would be obvious? I didn't think _you'd_ think I was coming back for good?"

No one dares meet his eyes, but then Alfred clears his throat.

"I do believe, my dear boy, that you know better what's good for you. And we will, of course, support you in your decision. Right?"

There's fire burning in Alfred's eyes, and there's this tone of his voice that everyone who's been raised by the old butler knows not to dispute.

Sounds of reluctant agreement pass over the room. Alfred nods, satisfied, and orders them to clean up the table.

While everyone does that, Bruce approaches Tim discretely.

"You know that I. I care about you, a lot," Bruce says.

"I know," Tim says, and it does sound truthful.

"And I just have a hard time imagining this place without you. It won't be the same," Bruce sighs.

“Things change," Tim says, looking up at him, with a glint in his eyes that Bruce can't quite place. “I’ve seen old gods change. We can change, too.”

Bruce sighs again, placing a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder, reluctant to let go.

"And, you know," Tim starts, smiling slyly, "I don't think you'd handle a magic robin easily. I wouldn't hold my powers back, and I'm not used to asking for permission anymore. All that stress would've been bad for blood pressure, in your age and all."

Tim's eyes are full with laughter, and then it spills, when Bruce gasps theatrically, grasping at his heart, and dashes forward, to ruffle Tim's hair roughly. Tim yelps and runs away, to help his brothers and sister clean up.

Bruce looks back at him and his heart clenches with something bittersweet.

Then, the doorbell rings.

Bruce looks around to see Alfred being busy, the kids as well. He decides to go open the door himself, and walks all the way down to the main door slowly - if the security didn't alert him at the gate, it must be someone from the inner circle of his teammates coming for a visit. On his way down, he tries to deduct who it might be - polite enough not to barge in and actually use the doorbell, so maybe Clark?

Or not, because the ringing is too persistent, impatient.

When he finally opens the door, there's a young woman standing there. She's blonde, her hair's wavy, her lips - red.

Bruce smiles, puts the dumb expression that's reserved for Brucie on his face.

"Excuse me, missy, can I help you?" he asks innocently.

"Awwww," she says, and Bruce blinks once, and she's already at his side, pinching his cheek. "Isn't that adorable, how fast you can get into character! Couldn't have expected less from the Batman!"

Bruce tries to concentrate on her features, but finds it hard to understand what she actually looks like, even though he's still left with the vague feeling that he must know her face.

"Sorry, lady, you got me all confused," Bruce says, putting on a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?"

Before the young woman has a chance to answer, Tim's voice cries out 'Holly' and then Tim is jumping over the banister straight from the second floor. He lands in a perfectly balanced stance, but Bruce's heart still skips a bit.

Especially when Tim scrambles past him and barrels into the blonde, hugging her tightly.

"Oh my baby," she murmurs, hugging him back, one hand caressing his head. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there, so sorry I couldn't help!"

"S not your fault," Tim says, sounding somehow squashed because of the way she's holding him.

The blonde must understand that she's crushing him, because she pulls away a little, taking Tim's face into her hands.

"But, you've gone through all of that on your own! If you just called me, no matter how hard, I would've found another way! I'm so sorry I was away!" she exclaims, biting her lip.

"What's done is done," Tim says calmingly. "You couldn't have known that would happen, there's nothing to be sorry about."

The blonde sighs and hugs Tim one more time. When she finally turns to Bruce, the cheerful smile is back on her face."

This is Holly," Tim introduces. "She's from my coven."

Bruce's still not easy with all of this magic thing - he was sure it'll pass as soon as Tim settles back into his life in Gotham, but, apparently, it was not going to happen any time soon.

Nevertheless, he smiles at Holly.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine. Mister Wayne," she says, smiling, and there's a sly glint to her eyes.

That's when Alfred joins them, taking one critical look at their guest, and then asking her to join them for tea. Holly walks upstairs, asking Alfred about the antiques displayed in the halls.

"How do I know her?" Bruce asks Tim, when the blonde turns away to look at the vase Alfred is proudly showing her.

"She used to be a famous actress in Hollywood," Tim says, lowering his voice to a conspicuous whisper. "You should take her complimenting your acting skills as an honor."

While Bruce tries to understand if his second youngest is making fun of him or not, Tim saunters towards the blonde witch.

"Holly, did you come to say hi? Do you wanna a tour of the library or?.."

The woman does not let him finish.

"I'm here to warn you, actually. Marie wants to hold the court for Ginny."

Bruce watches as Tim pales. He also stops, and so do Bruce and Alfred.

"Okay," Tim says, his mouth set in a straight line. "I'll get my things and-"

"No, honey, that's not why I've come," Holly says, catching Tim by the shoulders. "Marie wants to hold the court _here_ , in this house."

A very complicated swarm of emotions goes over Tim's features in a span of a few seconds. Most of those emotions are horror.

"She can't do that!" Tim exclaims. "She can't just come here to Bruce's house and start a _magical_ court hearing! "

It shouldn't really surprise Bruce that Tim doesn't consider the Manor a home anymore, but it still hurts to hear it.

"Okay," Tim says, taking a calming breath and going into critical thinking mode, just like Bruce had taught him. "Okay, we can move it to Drake Manor, it's just next to this house. The property's still in my name, right?"

Bruce nods, but notices how shaky Tim's breathing becomes when the boy turns his head to the west, where the Drake Manor is.

Alfred is glaring at him in the manner that still makes him want to hide in shame, as if he were 10.

"You don't have to go to the Drake Manor," Bruce says, clearing his throat. "We have plenty of space here, just tell me what you need."

"Bruce," Tim says, looking at him in a weird way. "I said _magical_ court. It's not- There's gonna be 7 of us, _witches_ , in your house. There's going to be _court_ held."

Bruce nods, acutely feeling Alfred still glaring at him.

"Is it because she did some kind of darkmagic?” he ask conversationally.

“There’s no dark or light magic, it simply is," Tim says. "It's a force and the intention of a spellcaster is what makes it good or evil.”

Bruce nods, pretending to understand.

"So _what_ did the person held to court do to deserve it?" he adds.

There's a dangerous glint to Holly's eyes.

"Well, for starters she tried to kill-"

Tim interrupts her.

"It's a thing of inner-coven matters," he says, sounding like he won't answer any questions. "And I want you to _really_ think if you want that in your house."

"This is your house, too," Bruce starts softly, feeling like he's threading on thin ice here. "So, just tell me what you need."

Bruce relaxes his body, trying to convey through body language, too, that Tim's allowed, _should_ ask him for things.

Tim sighs, meets Holly's gaze for a split second, and then turns to Alfred.

"If we're to have the hearing here, I'll need to prepare. I'll have to borrow your kitchen, Alfie, is that okay?"

***

The next hour is spent with the whole family running around the house, following Tim's instructions. There's flowers to be cut in the greenhouse, a ballroom cleared out and chairs being brought into it. Holly helps, using magic to move things more efficiently and faster, and Bruce tries not to be in the same room with her when that happens. Tim takes the kitchen, making something like mulled wine, to the horror of Dick. Tim says the drink is a tradition and rejects his older brother's pleas to have it be non-alcoholic.

When Tim forgets himself, busy with picking out cups that look absolutely not connected to each other and are from different sets, the wooden spoon in the pot keeps mixing the mulled wine, even with no one holding it.

It's a weird thing to see, Tim doing magic. Technically, it's not the first time Bruce sees Tim do it, he's seen it on the island, too, but that was before the curse was lifted, before he knew that was _his_ boy in front of him. Now, seeing Tim, _his_ Tim do magic is unsettling.

When all is done and checked by Holly, then re-checked by Tim, the only thing left to do is wait. The family fills up the cinema room, sitting around idly, talking about everything and nothing. There's a nervous energy cursing around the room, and everyone thinks their constant looks turned to Tim are discreet.

Half an hour passes, and then Tim jumps off his sit, grabbing Jason's jacket as he goes. Jason yelps after him, but gets no answer. When Tim passes him, Bruce notices that his third son's eyes are vacant.

Dick starts it, following just behind Tim, and his brothers follow. Tim walks out of the glass doors in the sun room and into the garden, wrapping Jason's brown jacket around his arm. He steps out and looks up, extending his arm to the side. There's a dot somewhere up, getting bigger in size, getting closer.

 _It's a bird_ , Bruce understands, when it emits a loud sound and lends on Tim's hand.

The bird is huge, its wings almost as wide as Tim's tall. It's in varying colors of grey, and Bruce recognizes it - it's a harpy eagle.

Tim scratches the bird's head and it leans into the touch.

"Hello, Jacques," Tim says to the bird. "Thanks for the heads-up."

He then turns to the others and says:

"They'll be here in three minutes."

There's a loud boom coming somewhere from the entrance to the Manor, and they all turn their heads towards the sound.

"Or earlier," Tim says and looks at Holly . 

Holly nods to something that only her and Tim know, and they rush towards the entrance, the harpy still perched on Tim's arm. The family sees no other way but to follow them.

When they enter the hall, they find the entrance doors thrown open, Alfred frantically standing on the side, unusually unsure what to do.

There are five women at the door. All of them are wearing black.

There are also animals around them, the ones Bruce presumes are the familiars. Beside the harpy eagle, there's a white tiger, an owl, a small Maltese dog and a whole reindeer. Cookie joins the line of the other animals proudly.

Bruce is not sure why the reindeer shocks him the most, but he also catches Damian's eyes glinting and has to step in front of his youngest, before the boy decides that any of these animals need to stay.

Bruce personally knows only one of the women, the Voodoo Queen Marie, and recognizes the others from the pictures Tim had in the house in Greece.

One of the women is in chains, and there are guards in what looks like Tang dynasty armor around her. One of the guards is holding a caged raven.

"Oh, that's where Jacques went," the Voodoo Queen says, holding her hand out for the bird. The harpy leaves Tim's side and flies to her. "Hi, sweetie."

The last bit is addressed to Tim, and the boy smiles to her. As for the women behind the voodoo priestess, the one of them who is barely dressed at all, just strips of what looks like black deer skin covering her breasts and hips, dashes forward and holds Tim close to herself.

"I'm okay," Tim mutters, even though the woman does not say anything at all.

There are two more women behind them, they both look older, but one of them is white, while the other one must be Asian.

The white woman with grey hair goes to hug Tim next, and he quacks when she does it, as if her embrace is too tight.

"Enough of your little talks," the woman of Asian descent says. "Let's get down to business."

"Oh please, don't you mind me," the woman in chains, the one who was supposed to be 'the London aunt' Ginny, says mockingly. "I have all day."

The Asian woman scoffs at her, but does not answer. She walks up to Tim, adjusting his clothes here and there.

"You are not dressed properly," she says in a scrutinizing manner.

She then takes a staff out of thin air and taps the floor with it, and Tim's and Holly's clothes turn to black cloaks. Bruce notices Holly's face turn sour, but she does not say anything.

"Let us proceed, then," the Voodoo Queen says.

She marches down the corridor as if she owns the place, and the kids let her pass, scurrying away from her way. The guards lead the chained woman forward, and she goes with her chin held high. The other witches follow, with Tim at the tail of the procession. It feels like the Manor has become their own, their playground, and they would decide who goes where.

Bruce hangs back, Cassandra at his side, while Alfred tries to reign the boys in, stopping them from following the procession.

"Boys," Bruce says, when they still try to go after Tim. "Let's go to the playroom and wait there."

They do that, albeit reluctantly. Bruce stays with them long enough to see the boys get themselves busy with one of Dick's favorite board games, and he slowly slips away from the room.

He goes towards the ballroom they've prepared for the witches, and controls his steps to be as light as they are on patrol, when he needs to stalk the suspects.

When he tries the door, he can't even turn the doorknob.

There are, and always have been, no locks on the ballroom doors.

He takes out his burglar kit, trying to decide where to stick the tools when the lock does not exist.

However, he is discovered.

"Master Bruce!" is said behind him with the utmost indignation.

Bruce absolutely does not jump, because he is not a child anymore, and Alfred does not scare him.

Well, maybe he should reconsider that thought, because when he looks at Alfred, there's quiet a lot of anger on his face.

But before Alfred has any chance to rebuke him, there's a scream from behind the door.

It's a woman's scream, and then the doorknob that Bruce automatically grabs for starts to glow, heating up, and Bruce takes his hand off fast, but still too late. Alfred's at his side in an instant, taking out a handkerchief and pressing it to the burn on Bruce's palm.

"Mater Bruce," Alfred says, his tone accusing. "You ought to know better than to grab things with your bare hands!"

Bruce looks down, evading his gaze.

"All of this magic," he grumbles, gesturing to the door with one hand.

Alfred tugs at the handkerchief that he's been wrapping around Bruce's hand roughly, and looks up at him.

"Don't you dare, Master Bruce, condemn magic while one of your sons is its user. You've driven _one_ child away because you couldn't accept _guns_ , and that, I can understand, even though not accept. But, with Master Tim, if you let your displeasure with magic drive the boy away, I swear to _God_...."

Bruce feels like a pound of lead had been dropped at the bottom of his stomach.

"Do you think that's why he wouldn't live with us," he asks in a horrified whisper.

"I think it might be one of the reasons, and it needs to be eliminated _now_! You could take the first step and believe Tim's judgement and let him make his own decisions. Now, let's go take care of that hand of yours."

Bruce hangs his head and follows Alfred.

***

When the witches finally emerge, their familiars are not with them. The chained one, Ginny, is either.

Alfred invites everyone to share a dinner in the sitting room, the place that's been converted to something to accommodate both Cass' and Damian's nostalgia for their early years. There's a low table in the room, and cushions around it to sit.

Alfred brings the dinner, and the witches take places at the table, the other places distributed between the family. No matter how much they've tried, getting to Tim was impossible, because the boy rested between the Voodoo priestess and the half-naked witch. Tim does look very tired.

The room is silent through the dinner, and when Alfred brings drinks, the chatter between the witches begins, again, as if they own the place. Dick chimes in, and the others follow. The introductions are being made, short stories about Tim being exchanged.

"Turn my sweatshirt back," Tim pouts at the Asian woman, the one Bruce found out is named Wu, "I like it."

Wu rolls her eyes, but does as he asks, both Tim's and Holly's clothes changing back.

"We should all probably change," Marie says, waving her hands at the others.

The clothes change, some of them becoming shabby and worn-out, like the ones the oldest witch, Veda, is wearing, to ones in ancient fashion, like the cheongsam on Wu, and bright, flamboyant ones on Marie. The deerskin on Lif, the white-skinned and white-haired witch, just turns brown instead of black.

"So, how did the accused plead?" Bruce asks conversationally, getting a death glare from Alfred.

Marie laughs, and Lif hides a small smile behind her hand, and Wu is the one to answer.

"Not guilty, of course. She never felt guilty about anything."

"We didn't kill her, if that's what you're nervous about," Marie says, longing back on the cushions.

"We do something worse," Veda grins, and Bruce notices that all of her teeth are unsettlingly white and straight.

"What did she do?" Jason asks, curious.

"Nothing much," Tim interjects.

While Marie says, blinking slowly, like a cat:

"She's tried to kill our Timmy here."

That information stirs a storm at the table, everyone shouting and asking questions, all at once.

"She tried - how?" Bruce asks roughly.

"I can tell your manservant here not from this place," Veda says, turning to Alfred and staring at him intently. "He know, what happen to that who stay in fae rings?"

Alfred's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes full of concern.

"Are you telling me she left Master Tim in a fairy ring?"

"That indeed," Holly says, lighting a cigarette that wasn't there a second ago. "Well, I've never liked that bitch anyway. She deserves it."

"What _it_?" Dick asks, and he almost sounds exited. "What did you do?"

The witches smile to each other, and it looks predatory. Bruce catches a small smile on Tim's lips.

"We've taken away everything she loved," Marie explains. "Her powers, her money, her glory. She could marry another rich idiot, of course, but it will be nothing without her magic, and the life of a rich wife will not bring her any joy."

After that, they do not ask about witch business anymore. There's other talks, lighter and easier, and they get especially better when Alfred brings a bottle of bourbon and some wine.

The groups mix after a few bottles are gone - there's the witches and Bruce's family all mixed up. Wu and Veda are having a drinking contest and Jason and Duke are cheering. Marie is singing something softly, accompanied by Dick playing on one of his old guitars. Tim is laying on the voodoo queen's lap. He's giggling at the faces the woman makes when she sings. Tim lets himself be childish with Marie, the way he's never with Bruce or even Dick. He's always been so serious, so reserved, always behaved more like an adult than an actual kid even when he was one. Bruce isnot sure what he thinks of it, but Tim seems to be happy.

Cass has left Bruce's side for the first time that evening, teaching Lif how to play jenga. During their talks, it turned out that Lif is half-mute, and the sign language she uses has some gestures that looked suspiciously like the ones Cass made up for herself in her younger years. They were the ones no one outside of the family knew, and Tim, blushing a little, explained that he taught her, when he was yearning for his family. That admission had earned Tim some hugs and hair-rubs, and he yelped when Jason lifted him off the ground and squeezed too tightly.

Surprisingly, the only accident happens when Bruce catches Damian trying to drink from the wine glass, and takes it away.

It gets dark faster than it feels it should, and the witches start to get ready for leaving.

When they get up, Tim does, too.

The family pleads and begs, but Tim is determined to leave. The only delay he allows them is that he is the last one to go.

Bruce wants to force him to stay, but Alfred's hand catches him by the elbow.

"The first step," the old man mutters, just so only Bruce would hear.

Bruce sighs and turns to Tim.

"Would you promise to visit, sweetheart?" he asks softly, carefully.

Tim looks at him with some kind of suspicion in his eyes, but smiles.

"Of course!" he promises.

"Or we could come, if you'd let us," Bruce continues carefully, making his damnest sure his second youngest knows he wants to be a part of his life, not matter what. "Your house still doesn't have the connection and mobile data, so no one would get me there. Surely it could do me some good, staying away from all of he tech for a while."

"You'd go stir-crazy after an hour," Tim laughs, and the others pick it up.

When the laughter subdues, Alfred smirks and adds:

"Oh, but I've heard something about the garden? Manual labor could do Master Bruce some good, I am certain of it."

"Seeing as you do everything for him here," Jason chimes in, and all of Bruce's family is laughing at him again.

Frankly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tim does get ready to leave, after a few rounds of hugs.

He leaves his bike for Damian to use, and walks out into the Manor grounds, turning towards the forest in the northern part of it, Cookie trotting behind him. The family walks him to the edge of the forest and stops there.

"But Tim, it's dark," Dick tries to make him reconsider, when Tim tells them he's going to walk back 'home' through the forest.

"Oh don't worry," Tim says, and his eyes glimmer for a second in the dark. "I won't ever lose my way."

  
***

When Tim walks out of the forest, the sun has already risen over Naxos.

He walks by the old temple, crumbling and dusty in it's disuse.

He walks down the carved stone stairs, and forward to the house on the hill.

It's _his_ house now, and he spins the old ring on his finger absentmindedly. 

When he gets to his house, the rays of winter sun shine through it's windows brightly.

There's work to be done, the windows to be washed, there's still plants in the garden that he hadn't covered for winter, and a dinner to be prepared, for when Kon comes in the evening.

There's a whole life ahead of him.

With the gentle rusting of the wind, the doors to the house open.

Tim smiles and walks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> google Harpy eagle, you will not be disappointed!  
> [this bird is a huge killing machine](https://mymodernmet.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/harpy-eagle-thumbnail.jpg)
> 
> There's things I haven't covered in this chapter, because it felt finished and perfect the away it was, but this happened also:  
> \- Klarion was waiting for Tim after his return, to talk. They will be forming an unlikely truce and helping each other at times. Practically, Tim sees a sad witch boy and kinda adopts him - that's like normal for bats, right?  
> \- Tim goes to see that little girl, to thank for the drawing and to tell her that he's okay, even though he's not going to be Red Robin anymore, because he found something else for himself. The girl, Nichelle, tells him she'll support him if he's happy with his new life - he says he is.  
> \- Tim's Queer Squad meets him in the village and tackle-hugs him. He can finally tell them the truth about himself. He also offers them financial help with their studies, and offers Nik help with transitioning. Nik promises to think about it, but agrees to take money to be independent from his parents and finally leave them  
> \- Tim occasionally helps the bats\the titans\ the league with magic business.  
> \- But mostly he's busy with inner-coven things, and magic things that are above the league's knowledge\competence.  
> \- Kon moves in with Tim after four months - and even before it's official, he spends more time on Naxos than elsewhere.  
> \- Kon still can be a superhero, because he can fly and get to the place where he needs to be fast. Sometimes Tim would take him through the forest if it needs to be even faster.  
> \- A few years later, they get married. It's a spring wedding, both of them are wearing white linen shirts and there's flowercrowns Tim's students made for them.  
> \- The celebration takes a week. There's superheroes, the witches and the villagers present.  
> \- The argument between Wu and Veda, about who can drink more, is finally settled. Bruce wins it, downing by mistake a very suspicious greenish-red drink the two prepared specifically for the competition between them. Nevertheless, Bruce manages not to throw up, so he wins, and finally earns the respect of the two witches.  
> (Bruce finds that he can't move shortly after, and Holly comes to rescue, simultaneously making fun of him)  
> \- At the wedding, Nik finally gets the courage to kiss Nikos, and finds out with some surprise that it's quite mutual.  
> \- Kon and Tim plan to adopt some kids, and Kon tells Tim they need at least three, but it's still under debate.

**Author's Note:**

> I understand this may leave some questions, so let me remind me that my ask box&DMs are always open, do pop up to ask me things! [ my tmblr](http://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/)
> 
> At one point I was procrastinating by making aesthetics edits for the AU, so here's the [ tag for them](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/tagged/my-edits-tag)
> 
> Thank you for sticking around with this fic for so long, those of you who did! And welcome to the people who's just found it - your comments and kudos mean a lot to me!


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